


Lighting the fuse might result in a bang

by ember_firedrake



Series: Stop the world (cause I wanna get off with you) [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Blow Jobs, Dancing, First Dates, First Time, Lingerie, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An immediate follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6493909">"(Do I wanna know) If this feeling flows both ways"</a></p><p>James Flint and John Silver go on a date, and more strip club shenanigans occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lighting the fuse might result in a bang

Dating wasn't really John Silver's _thing_. Meeting people, there always came the inevitable moment of “So, what do you do?” In this respect, he was a strong proponent of the truth, not wanting the stress that would follow if he fabricated some occupation and that person asked questions he couldn't answer. Quick and to the point, “I'm an entertainer in a strip club,” no dancing around the matter with euphemisms that too often caused further confusion. But with the truth came...complications. 

Silver didn't give a fuck about people's opinions of him, not really, but it was hard to see a relationship with any future when the person he was with made a face at that particular revelation. Either one of pity, of judgment, or worst of all, that leering sort of once-over that left Silver feeling objectified at best. 

(It was one thing to be objectified when he was on stage, performing, high on the thrill of knowing everyone in the audience was watching him as he slowly stripped. And knowing he'd be paid handsomely at the end of the night. Quite another when the person he was on a date with saw him as an easy fuck) 

And then there were the people who wanted to change him, to _save_ him from his chosen occupation and suggest more respectable options. As if some nights he didn't make more than others did in a week. Silver knew, deep down, they were just ashamed at the prospect of having to one day introduce family and friends to their stripper boyfriend. Those relationships never got far. Those who didn't judge him often couldn't handle the hours Silver kept for anything resembling long-term. And Silver had a strict “no coworkers” policy, given that they already saw far too much of each other. 

So, it had been a while, since he'd allowed himself to date and since he'd come across someone who wasn't patronizing or creepy or didn't raise half a dozen other red flags. It just so happened that _someone_ was someone he'd been paid to give a lap dance. 

As far as first impressions went, Silver was sure there were worse ways of meeting people. 

When Silver had agreed to go to lunch with Flint it had been impulse, one driven by gut feeling more than anything. He'd appreciated the honesty of Flint’s confession, and that combined with the not insignificant attraction he felt towards the man had merited at least a chance at further meetings. 

The place Flint chose for lunch was nice without being too pretentious or flashy, and as they sat across from one another Silver couldn't help but notice the way Flint fidgeted nervously, his hands clasping as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. It was almost endearing, really, and Silver couldn't help but wonder how long since Flint had dated as well. 

“So,” Silver said, leaning forward across the table somewhat. “When you're not being dragged out by friends on a Friday evening, what do you like doing?” 

Flint glanced up, his surprised expression meeting Silver's eyes. “Was I that obvious?”

“Well, not once _I_ showed up on stage,” Silver said, enjoying the flush that crept into Flint’s cheeks. “But I had an eye on the room from the wings before that, and you were there more for your friend’s benefit than your own.”

“Miranda,” Flint said, giving a fond smile. “She wants me to get out more. I tend to...keep to myself, otherwise. Reading, usually.” 

There was something there in Flint’s hesitation. Some history, some reason for keeping to himself that he was sidestepping. Too early, Silver knew, to try asking about it, so he respected the evasion and instead asked Flint what he liked to read. 

By the time their drinks arrived, they were discussing their favorite books and subjects. But the time food arrived, Silver knew Flint worked as a curator in one of the city’s history museums. Silver told Flint of his brief period when he had majored in art history, with the intention of getting into art restoration before he realized how much science it entailed. Fortunately, he'd discovered a knack for the performing arts. Flint had flushed again at that, laughing, and something lurched within Silver as it occurred to him what a great sound that was. He wanted to hear it again. More than that, there was no judgement from Flint about his unconventional education path. No suggestion or insinuation that he ought to go back to his original plan. Just a genuine interest, honest and open. 

“That's the reason for the tattoos,” Silver explained. “I wanted something that reminded me of why I enjoyed that part of my life.” 

“The baroque leaves,” Flint said in recollection. 

By the time their plates were cleared away, Silver had finally settled on the particular color green of Flint’s eyes, the green of an ocean right before a storm. Flint spoke of his hobbies (he enjoyed cooking), his friendship with Miranda, and though there were topics he danced around, Silver didn't begrudge him that. It was a first date, after all. 

By the time the light was angling through the nearby windows, Silver realized he had completely lost track of the time. He took a moment to glance at his watch. 

“ _Shit._ I’m sorry, I just remembered I have to practice a group routine for tonight’s show,” Silver explained apologetically as he scrambled to his feet. He dug into his wallet and pulled out cash for their meals along with a generous tip for occupying the table for so long. “I’ve _really_ enjoyed this, and I’d love to do it again, I just—Max is going to tear me a new one if I hold everyone up.” 

“It’s okay, I understand,” Flint was saying, looking slightly dazed, as if he had woken. Silver could relate—the past few hours had gone by in a blur. 

Silver hesitated a moment, staring at Flint’s mouth. He had been so engrossed in their conversation it had been easy to forget, for a short while, their initial encounter. Now, with him about to leave for work, that memory returned in full force. Bracing himself above Flint, grinding down in his lap, whispering filthy things in his ear. And that kiss, electric and perfect and all too brief. He wanted to kiss Flint again. 

Silver swallowed. He was already running late. “I have to go,” he said, hoping his tone could convey how very much he wanted to stay. 

Max gave Silver a look of exasperation when he arrived. “What took you so long?” 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was on a date and I lost track of time.”

“A _date_?” That was Jack Rackham, the club’s DJ. He and Max were in some sort of relationship with Anne, the club’s bartender. Some sort, because Silver knew Max had no interest in sleeping with men. He didn't know the particulars of their dynamic, but they made it work and they were all happy, which was what mattered.

“What happened to ‘John Silver does _not_ date’?” Jack continued. “What happened to ‘No one could possibly be worthy of this hair but myself’?” 

“First of all, I never said that. Second of all, I'm sorry mullets never made the comeback you were hoping for.” 

Before Jack could spout indignities that his hair was _not_ a mullet, Silver ducked backstage so he could get changed. He was halfway through practice when it occurred to him—he and Flint had no way of contacting one another. Silver’s stomach seemed to plummet as he recounted the afternoon. They had never exchanged phone numbers. He didn’t even know which museum Flint worked for. He supposed, if it came to it, he could always go back to that bookshop and—what, hope Flint would be there at the same time? 

Silver shook his head, intensely disappointed in himself. Flint probably thought he had been trying to make a quick getaway. Silver knew he would have come to a similar conclusion, if the person he was out with made a sudden excuse and left. He just wished there was some way he could apologize, to assure Flint that no, he really _did_ want to see him again. 

After rehearsal, Max came over to comb his hair and begin french-braiding it for the night’s show. She picked up quickly on his mood. 

“What troubles you, _mon cher_? When you arrived you were in high spirits, but now you are upset.” 

“Just my uncanny knack for self-sabotage, is all,” Silver said, squinting as he applied eyeliner. “I won't bring my mood on stage with me, I promise.” 

“Very well, then, keep your secrets. Don't forget the rouge.” 

The club opened that night, and Silver pushed his disappointment from his mind. He needed to stay focused on his dancing. Max’s group routine was a burlesque dance number, and to that end he wore a burgundy underbust-style corset, which left his upper torso bare so it could be adorned with jewelry. The silver rings at his nipples had beaded crystal drops hanging from them. He wore low-slung black briefs that clung to his skin and would leave very little to the audience’s imagination, which were framed by a burgundy silk garter belt that held up black lace stockings on his thighs. The ensemble was completed by heeled leather boots. 

The curtain went up, and Silver blinked against the lights, his eyes automatically going to the place where he’d first seen Flint those weeks ago. Of course someone else was sitting there now, and Silver cursed inwardly that he was bringing his baggage with him on stage after he’d promised Max he wouldn’t. Then the music started, and Silver let himself focus on that, falling into the practiced movements with ease. Fortunately, for the group number, people’s attention would be on everyone, and it wouldn't matter if his heart wasn’t completely in it. 

Still, Silver prided himself on being a consummate actor, and he could fake it when he needed to. By the time the music ended the crowd was cheering, and Silver felt flushed from exertion. He bowed dramatically before falling in behind Joji as they exited towards backstage to wait for their individual numbers. This was fine. He could do this, the same way he had for months now. 

He loved it, he really did. The dancing, the flirting. Knowing he could hold an audience’s attention just with the sway of his hips. Silver took a steady breath, letting the atmosphere of this place fill him as he prepared for his individual number. He pulled out the silk scarves he would need, running the wine-colored material against his fingers. He was off his game tonight, but he could find it again. He just needed that one thoroughly captive audience member. 

Or maybe not even that. As Max called Silver’s name and he made his way back on stage, he closed his eyes a moment, remembering the way he had felt when Flint’s eyes had been on him that night. The silk scarves were pooled at his feet on the stage. The music started, and Silver reached his hand up, brushing a stray curl behind his ear that had fallen from the braids. 

Silver undulated, remembering the heat of Flint’s gaze. Remembering how it had felt to twist above him, grinding himself down on Flint’s erection. He was not above using those memories as a source of inspiration now, as he turned in time with the music, moving his hips to the beat. As he finally bent to grasp the silk material, drawing the scarves up in an artful ribbon dance, Silver could feel the audience’s captive attention. 

He remembered with vivid clarity their date, how easy it had been to talk to Flint. For the first time in a long time, experiencing a mutual attraction rooted in genuine interest. He remembered Flint’s laugh, and how much he had wanted to hear it again. But Silver couldn't afford thoughts of regret now. He felt his focus on his dancing drifting, and he took a breath to regain his bearings. 

Flint was there, in the crowd. Silver stared, unsure for a moment if this was not some conjuring of his mind. But sure enough, it was Flint, wearing the same clothes he had worn earlier. He was staring openly at Silver, with a hunger Silver recognized, as well as a nervousness that was not unfamiliar. 

There was still a minute left in the song. Silver cocked his head, swaying his hips. Why would Flint be here unless—unless he'd wanted to see Silver again. Unless he'd come to the same conclusion Silver had about their lack of exchanged information, and had decided to seek Silver out first. Something curious fluttered in Silver’s chest, and he felt warm all over. He drew one of the scarves from his back over his shoulder, letting the end of the silky material drag enticingly across his nipples, and even from this distance he could see the way Flint swallowed. Silver smiled, and the smile was meant only for Flint, as he flicked the end of the other scarf in a graceful loop. Need thrummed beneath his skin, but it could wait. He was invigorated with newfound energy as he finished the routine, the sounds of audience applause not enough to distract Silver from the way Flint was looking at him. 

Silver’s face and body felt flushed as he took his bow, the steel stays of the corset pressing snug against his sides and the flat of his stomach. He straightened again, bringing one of the scarves to his lips, before rolling and tossing it. Eyes wide in stunned surprise, Flint caught the fluttering material. Silver threw one more weighted glance Flint’s way before he took a final bow and returned backstage. 

He could hear Max announcing Billy as he moved onstage, and then she appeared backstage as well. 

“Fantastic energy, darling,” she said, planting a quick kiss on the air above Silver’s shoulder. “Care to share your secret yet?” 

“I may not have sabotaged myself as badly as I originally thought,” Silver said.

Max gave a knowing look, letting out a soft laugh. “Have fun. And try not to be late for practice in the future.”

Silver made his way onto the floor. Flint wasn't in the spot he’d been during the dance, and Silver looked around a moment in confusion. Surely he wouldn’t have left. 

“Hello again,” came a voice from behind him. 

Silver turned, and there was Flint, looking the same as he had this afternoon. Well...slightly more flushed than he had this afternoon. Flint’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, and his hands fidgeted at his sides—one of those hands, Silver saw, still held the silk scarf. He was _nervous_ , Silver realized, his gaze determinedly fixed on Silver’s face although every few seconds it would flicker down. 

“I...ah, we forgot to trade phone numbers,” Flint said, confirming Silver’s suspicions. “That is, if you still want my phone number and I didn’t just horribly misread the situation in which case I’ll go.” 

The last part was said in a rush, and Silver blinked at him. Flint _had_ worried then, when Silver had left suddenly. He must have felt conflicted for hours, comparing Silver’s hasty retreat with the earnestness of their earlier interactions. He must have felt like he was crossing some kind of line, when he’d come back to the club tonight. Flint tried to cast his gaze down, but as if realizing that brought Silver’s outfit into view he flushed and looked up again. 

Silver smiled. “You paid the club’s cover fee just to see me again and ask for my number?”

There it was again, that hand fidget. It was oddly endearing. “You paid for lunch before I had the chance to offer. I figured...you probably wouldn’t have done that if you _were_ really sick of my company.” 

That even now Flint could still be fidgeting and nervous amazed Silver. Even after the obviousness of Silver’s flirting during the dance, Flint still looked unsure how he would be received. Was it just that it had been that long since he’d been interested in another person? Silver couldn’t imagine there was any shortage of people who found Flint attractive. This close, and wearing heels, Silver was at eye level with Flint, near enough to count the freckles on his neck and see the lines of worry on his forehead. He would smooth away those lines, if he could. 

Silver closed the distance between them, reaching up to touch Flint’s jaw. He waited a moment, watching until Flint’s unsurety had faded and was replaced with realization. Relief. Hope. Want. Then Silver leaned in, pressing his lips to Flint’s. It was the kiss he’d wanted to give before he left this afternoon. A promise, a reminder, a _welcome_. Silver opened his mouth, and Flint responded in kind. He let out a soft groan as Silver’s tongue teased forward, the piercing flicking briefly against the inside of Flint’s mouth, and Silver recalled why their first kiss had been cut short. 

Silver drew back, caught by the way Flint seemed to sway forward as if chasing the kiss. But they couldn’t continue without first moving this elsewhere. Flint blinked his eyes open, dazed.

“Follow me,” Silver said. 

He glanced back to ensure Flint was following, then led him to door near the stage. A brief network of halls later, and they had reached Silver’s dressing room. Honestly, Silver had expected more unease from Flint, but there was a different sort of energy in his bearing now. As if, having received that unspoken confirmation that they were on the same page, nervousness had transformed into restlessness, an eagerness that had him crowding into Silver’s space the moment the door was closed.

“May I?” Flint asked, his hands hovering short of touching Silver, and Silver nodded vigorously, certain that if he were to open his mouth he might end up begging. 

Silver wasn’t entirely certain that wouldn’t be the case soon enough, gasping as Flint’s thumbs rolled against his pierced nipples. Flint’s mouth was on his again a moment later, and _oh_. _Oh._ Silver had more or less set the pace for their last two kisses, and while those had been amazing there was something overwhelming and intense about Flint leading this particular charge. Silver blamed exertion from dancing for the fact that his knees now felt wobbly, unwilling to admit a kiss had him this unsteady on his feet. 

Flint tugged gently at the nipple rings, and Silver groaned into his mouth, his hands grappling uselessly at Flint’s arms. They’d always been sensitive, but getting the piercings had made them even more so. It was one thing to play with them himself when he was trying to get off, another thing entirely to have someone else’s hands on them, someone who seemed to instinctively _get_ how much pressure was too much. The delicate line between pleasure and pain. Flint released the rings, his fingers going back to briefly trace the stiffened nipples while Silver whined against him. 

Flint’s hands slid down, his palms going flat against the panels and stays of the corset. Silver’s legs wobbled again. He was so caught up in the insistent drag of Flint’s mouth against his, he was only distantly aware he was being walked backwards until he felt the solid presence of the wall at his back. Then Flint’s mouth was gone, and Silver experienced a moment of brief disorientation until he realized Flint was falling to his knees, his hands now framing the silk garter belt. 

Flint looked up, green eyes imploring. Silver could only manage a shaky nod, not trusting his voice but estimating that he wouldn’t object to whatever Flint had in mind. Flint’s fingers hooked the waistband of his briefs, and Silver barely processed the touch of air as his skin was exposed before Flint’s mouth was on him, swallowing the length of him like he was desperate for it. 

“Oh, _fuck_ —” Silver’s hands flew to Flint’s hair, unprepared for the intensity and enthusiasm of the blow job. He buried his fingers in Flint’s hair, doing his best not to tug, though Flint’s moan of appreciation told him he hadn’t overstepped. 

Silver hadn’t expected this. So sue him, he’d made some assumptions, the first time he’d seen Flint. Silver was used to being the one who put a lot of effort into making his partner happy. Another reason he hadn’t dated in a while. Not that he had anything against doing more work at times, not that he didn’t _love_ it sometimes, but so many people seemed to expect it. Yet here Flint was, going down on him like he was starving for it. Oh god, how long had it been since he’d—

“ _Ahh_ —christ, that’s good. That’s so good, that’s—” Silver was distantly aware he was babbling, but he didn’t care if he made a fool of himself. All his focus was on Flint, watching the way his mouth was stretched, seeing the way his eyes had fallen shut, eyelashes fanned against his freckled cheeks. Listening to and feeling the satisfied humming Flint let out as his mouth and throat worked around Silver’s cock. 

Flint drew back a little, his tongue playing at the slit, nostrils flaring as his eyes blinked open again. He looked completely blissed-out, near-rapturous from the act of sucking Silver’s cock. Like this was more for his own benefit than it was Silver’s. That was what pushed Silver to the brink, the idea of Flint getting off so much just from this. He cursed out a warning, relaxing his hold on Flint’s hair in case he wanted to pull off. But Flint just moaned, mouth sinking down until his nose was brushing Silver’s pelvis. Silver’s curses became a guttural moan as his entire body went tense, cock spilling inside Flint’s mouth. Flint swallowed around him, the sounds he made causing reverberations along Silver’s nerves. After a prolonged moment, Flint drew back, pillowing his forehead on Silver’s hip as he panted. His breath was hot on Silver’s sensitive skin.

“Oh fuck,” Silver gasped as he came down. “ _Fuck_ , I’m—I’ll take care of you in a minute, I promise, I just need...I just need some time.” 

Flint let out a soft chuckle. “No need,” he said, angling his face to meet Silver’s eyes. 

Silver felt hot all over at the implications of what Flint had said. He recalled their first encounter, when he’d been grinding on Flint’s lap and Flint had gone suddenly tense after Silver kissed him. Had it only been earlier that day when he’d discovered the true reason for Flint’s sudden panic? There was a certain element of flattery, knowing he had been the cause of Flint coming too soon. Knowing his _kiss_ had pushed Flint over the edge. But this—Flint blowing his mind and coming _just from that_. That was…fuck. And more, the first time Flint had been panicked. Embarrassed. But now, he was looking up at Silver with an expression that was almost apologetic, but mostly just...satisfied. 

“Oh, jesus,” Silver muttered. His legs felt like overcooked noodles, and he slid down the wall until he was seated. He fumbled until he could pull Flint to him and kiss his mouth again, chasing the traces of himself on Flint’s lips. 

“James will do just fine,” Flint said when they parted, a smug smile tugging the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh shut up,” Silver said, laughing. He considered making a quip that Flint shouldn't be _too_ pleased with himself given that he'd come in his pants twice now, but that seemed unfair given how good he'd made Silver feel. Silver kissed him again, watching the play of emotions on Flint’s face. The worry lines from earlier had become near-invisible, and the smile he now wore was very appealing. Silver allowed himself to indulge in something he'd wanted to do for a while now, stroking the ginger hair of Flint’s beard. 

“So,” Flint said, after a moment. He arched an amused eyebrow. “About that phone number?” 

***

A week later, Silver showed up on time for practice, though Max scowled at the hickey on his neck. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to diddles5150 on Tumblr for [this amazing fanart](http://diddles5150.tumblr.com/post/145149484566/after-reading-hawkbi-pierces-fic-on-ao3)


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